Tuesday, 22 February 2011


Dull, damp, misty, miserable and dreary. These are the words which sprang to mind when we set out this morning for our walk.  A few spots of rain fell on us, but never amounted to very much, so, throwing caution to the wind, we set out round Straw's Bridge and Pewit Carr.  As we passed the 'Bogwash', the unmistakable sounds of a fight came to us across the water.  The Coots were at it again.
Like large, black, feathery balls of fury, the birds swam toward each other, displaying and showing off their bottoms.  Feathers were fluffed, heads were kept low to the water and the fight began.  Turning face-to-face, they sat back on their tails presenting their feet and began kicking and scratching.
Soon, others joined in.  One seemed to be taking on the role of referee before also joining in the fray as the water splashed around and the squabbling intensified.  It was all rather entertaining, like watching stupid, posturing teenagers spilling from a town-centre pub on a Saturday night.  Too much excitement for one day, so we went on our way and left them to it.
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